


Nonsense & Nuptials

by thehobbem



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Pining, Regency Romance, Romantic Comedy, because this is not at ALL historically accurate, but NOT the period-typical sexism and homophobia and racism bc fuck that, finnpoe and rose/kaydel happening in the background, now: when I SAY regency please take it with a grain of salt, the classism we all love (?) about regency stories is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehobbem/pseuds/thehobbem
Summary: "I have just learned the most shocking news. Miss Netal, whom we all thoughtBenLord Solo would ask in marriage, and who had been accepting his attentions for some time, has gotten engaged to the old Duke of Grummgar! I can scarcely believe one could reject a young, handsome man (for Lord Solo is, indeed, very handsome) and future earl for a much older prospect, only because the latter has a higher title!It is my belief thatBLord Solo deserves a far better match than Miss Netal — and I shall take it upon myself to see that he finds one.Yours affectionately,Rey Niima"
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey & Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 92
Kudos: 247
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hellyjellybean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellyjellybean/gifts).



> For the wonderful Helen! Happy new year! ^_^

_"There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison”_

_("Persuasion", Jane Austen)_

* * *

**Section I**

**The Plan**

_Grosvenor Square, March 8, 1798_

_Dear Miss Kanata,_

_Before I begin to tell you everything, I must ask for your forgiveness that I did not write as soon as we arrived in London. But from the first moment it was such a to-do, with so many places to go and so many people to see, that one could hardly sit down long enough to take up the pen before having to attend yet another engagement. And so I do hope you will forgive me._

_Two weeks and already I have been to five balls — including one at Lord Calrissian’s and two at the Almack’s Assembly Rooms. ~~Be~~ Lord Solo is invariably kind enough to ask me for two dances, and I generally dance with ~~Fin~~ Cdr. Finnegan and Cpt. Dameron as well._

_Lady Organa, as always, is generosity itself, and once again I find myself worried about the expenses she must incur on my account. My concerns, however, only make Lord Solo laugh a good deal._

_This reminds me to say that_

“Miss Rose Tico,” the footman announces, coming into the drawing room. At that, Rey drops the pen on the table with alacrity and gets up. Writing to Miss Kanata, her old governess, is an activity to which Rey prefers to dedicate herself without interruptions — but Rose must be allowed to be an exception. Spending time with Rose Tico is by far one of the greatest pleasures of the London season.

“I cannot stay long,” Rose says hurriedly as they sit on the couch after their greetings, “Paige and I have a few appointments this morning, but I had to come and tell you the single most sensational news of the day!”

“Have Mr. Beaumont and Sir Klaud finally gone to Gretna Green?” Rey asks, leaning forward. They’ve all been waiting for that to happen since last year; Rey and Finn even have a wager about it — won’t it be great to win those five shillings from him! And what could be more sensational than an elopement?

But Rose shakes her head.

“No, though I am sure it will happen soon! No, it’s about Miss Netal.”

“Oh,” Rey replies, trying to hide her disappointment. Of all the people she’s gotten used to meeting in London, Miss Netal is the one that interests her the least. Merely the daughter of a wealthy lawyer, her brother has recently come into a baronetcy, inherited from a distant cousin; the prestige of knighthood, combined with a dowry of £20,000 and her effortless beauty, had turned Miss Netal into one of the haughtiest ladies of this season. Despite Rey’s desire to be far from her company, she has been seeing her more frequently as of late, due to Ben’s— _oh._

Right, then. This must be the news Rose has come to share. After lavishing Miss Netal with noticeable attention, Ben must have made his intentions known to her father. Somehow, that has the effect of further reducing Rey’s wish to see or hear about the lady.

“Miss Netal is _engaged,_ ” Rose says with absolute delight.

With a smile to hide her discontent, Rey shakes her head. “Rose, this is hardly sensational news, we all thought it would happen.”

“No no no no no!” For a moment it seems as if Rose might levitate from excitement. “She’s engaged _to Lord Grummgar!”_

Rey goes still. “To… the Duke of Grummgar?”

Rose nods enthusiastically. “Yes!”

“To the _old_ Duke of Grummgar?!”

“Yes, I’m telling you, it’s the shock of the morning!”

“But— but he must be nearly seventy!” Rey replies, horrified.

“A nearly seventy-year-old _duke,_ ” says Rose, ever the realist.

“Do you think that’s the reason?!”

“Oh, you are not suggesting she is marrying him for _love,_ are you, Rey?”

“Well… no, but…” she hesitates. Miss Netal had seemed so… _satisfied_ with Ben’s attentions. And who wouldn’t be? A wealthy young lord, set to inherit an earldom, and by far the most interesting, handsome man of Rey’s acquaintance. Surely that should have been enough for the likes of a Miss Netal!

“...So she accepted both Lord Solo’s _and_ the duke’s attentions, only to accept the highest bid in the end?! That’s contemptible!”

Rose shrugs. “Different people will have different priorities. If hers is the highest title…” she trails off, in a tone that manages to express both reproach and indifference.

Rey’s face falls. “B— Lord Solo will be so disappointed!”

“Do you really think so?” Rose asks in a mischievous tone, as if telling a joke in a language Rey doesn’t speak. “I don’t know that he was so intent on marrying her. But be that as it may, he’ll soon find another lady who wishes to marry a future earl! There’s no shortage of them,” she adds with a chuckle, before rising once again.

At the window, watching her friend walk down Grosvenor Square, Rey wonders if Rose was right. Maybe Ben is not so infatuated with Miss Netal. For all that she has known him most of her life, Ben’s intentions are seldom easy to read (though his mother swears on the opposite creed, but mothers will always know their own child better than anyone). And yet, for such a woman to make so little of Ben’s attentions, and reject him in such a calculated manner!…

Sitting back at the writing desk, Rey picks up the pen again.

_~~This reminds me to say that~~ I have just learned the most shocking news. Miss Netal, whom we all thought ~~Ben~~ Lord Solo would ask in marriage, and who had been accepting his attentions for some time, has gotten engaged to the old Duke of Grummgar! I can scarcely believe one could reject a young, handsome man (for Lord Solo is, indeed, very handsome) and future earl for a much older prospect, only because the latter has a higher title!_

_It is my belief that ~~B~~ Lord Solo deserves a far better match than Miss Netal — and I shall take it upon myself to see that he finds one._

_Yours affectionately,_

_Rey Niima_

༻❈༺ 

Dinner parties at the Organa-Solos are never anything below “exceedingly handsome,” and to be invited to one is a privilege very few have.

And yet here she is, Rey Niima, practically a nobody, with a secured place at the table among the wealthy, the nobility, and heroes of the Royal Navy, through the unique fortune of being Lady Organa’s ward. But this may very well be one of her last dinner parties.

Once the season is over, she will have to seek a position; she can no longer rely on Lady Organa’s kindness and live a life of leisure when she has no income of her own, and only a meager inheritance. A position as governess is the only thing she can do — unless, of course, someone asks for her hand in marriage, but who would do such a thing? And who would she even be inclined to marry?

“You look like you’re overthinking again,” Ben suddenly whispers to her, catching her off-guard.

How Ben seems to always know what she’s thinking is a time-old mystery to her; would that she had the same powers.

“You cannot blame me,” she replies in the same hushed tone, so that their exchange may go unheard among the lively conversation taking place along the table. “I have serious matters to consider.”

Keeping the façade of an inconsequential talk, Ben only slightly raises an eyebrow at her in a teasing manner, as if to say _Is that so?_ , before taking a long sip of his wine and deliberately lengthening her wait for an answer. It’s infuriating, of course, and he _knows._

“I’ve told you before,” he says at last. “If my mother knew what you’re considering, she would be devastated. She wants to provide for you completely until you marry.”

“I cannot allow her, she has done too much for me already,” she says, leaving aside the inconvenient thought that she might not marry at all.

“What if I were to provide for you?”

Rey opens her mouth, ready to answer with a good-humored reply, but is stunned to find his face turned from jokingly reproachable to deeply sincere.

“That would be impossible,” she whispers, astounded that she even has to say it.

Ben remains unperturbed, as if there were nothing scandalous in the idea. “Why is that?”

“Why, the… the impropriety of it! What would your future wife think, of you providing for another woman, one who is not related to you?!”

The ‘impropriety of it’ seems to bother him not in the least as he examines her with intense eyes for another long while.

“I was hoping my future wife would be… amiable to the idea,” he says slowly. “But I see now that she will not be.”

Rey gives him a small disbelieving laugh. “Why would you think she would approve of that?!”

“…and Miss Netal’s loss is my son’s gain,” says Admiral Han Solo at the other end of the table, loud enough for both of them to hear the comment from their seats, and they turn to look. “Isn’t that right, Dameron?”

“That, sir, I can definitely agree with,” says Captain Dameron, raising his glass in a toast. “To her loss and Solo’s gain!”

The toast is cheerfully picked up by everyone else around the table; people like Captain Dameron, the Calrissians and Captain Chewbacca, all of whom had seen Ben grow up, had not — much like Rey herself — been remarkably fond of the idea of Miss Netal becoming a Solo, while the Miss Ticos and Finn — much like Rey herself — had wished Miss Netal’s unpleasant character as far away from them as possible. But never has her unpopularity been made so clear as now.

The only person to raise her glass with an admonishing air instead of mirth is Lady Organa. As cold as she had been to the prospect of Miss Netal as a daughter-in-law, a toast to ‘someone’s loss’ is far from polite etiquette. (Although Rey _does_ catch a fleeting smile that Lady Organa tries to hide as she takes a sip of her wine.)

As they drink, Rey steals a glance at Ben. He seems tranquil and collected, thanking the present company with a low, amused ‘thank you,’ and not at all flustered by the mention of the lady he had, until very recently, thought about marrying.

“And what would your gain look like, Lord Solo?” Rey asks out loud, emboldened by the general spirit of the party.

Ben shoots her a surprised look, but Lord Calrissian immediately takes up her cause:

“Tell us, little Ben, what would a Lady Solo have to be like?”

“As different as possible from Miss Netal, I assume,” Lady Jannah adds with a smirk.

Ben nods at her, looking more serious than the occasion requires of him. “You are not far off. But I’m afraid I would bore you all with a long list of awfully specific demands.”

“We can make a simplified list for you, then,” Captain Dameron promptly replies, and he looks at the rest of the table with a solemn air, like a professor about to begin a lecture. “The future Lady Solo must not be the foolish sort. Solo will _not_ put up with it, I know it.”

“Beauty would probably not go amiss,” Paige offers.

With a dry chuckle, Lady Organa makes her contribution. “She must share some of Ben’s interests. He needs someone to talk to, otherwise he will go crazy.”

As the rest of the table chimes in (with a “Horses and books, then,” from Finn and a “She must be a rider” from Ben’s father, among a slew of other suggestions), Rey watches Ben resignedly do his best to bear with the topic until it has run its course, and genuinely pities him. It is truly unfortunate that, as withdrawn and private as Ben is, he was born at the very center of society, and thus chained to the inevitable attention that comes with his position.

When the topic is blissfully changed, he lets out the most discreet of sighs; to liven his spirits, Rey whispers:

“Care to go for a ride tomorrow?”

Ben turns to her with open relief. “Nothing would give me more pleasure.”

༻❈༺ 

At night, in her bedroom, Rey is already in bed when the thought of taking notes occurs to her.

Getting up, she sits at her small writing desk, lights a candle, and hastily scribbles:

_Not foolish_

_Handsome_

_Must share his interests_

Her mind now at ease, she blows out the candle and goes back to bed.

**Section II**

**“Handsome”**

Try as she might, Rey cannot think of a lady of her acquaintance that she would consider foolish (well… maybe Mrs. Beaumont. Foolish women do, after all, raise foolish sons); therefore, she decides to focus on the second item of her list, ‘handsome’.

London society does not want for handsome women, but after some careful thought, Rey decides that one in particular will make a most suitable match for Ben: Lady Kaydel Connix.

The only daughter of the Earl of Dulathia, Lady Kaydel was presented at court a couple of years before, along with Rey and Rose, and has ever since been known as a renowned beauty and one of the most eligible ladies in London. Surely not even Ben Solo, with his fastidiously high standards, could deny her to be a beauty! And with Kaydel’s father being famously adamant that she should not marry below their rank, the future Earl of Organa will be a fabulous match for her as well.

Firmly settled on her choice, Rey doesn’t have to wait for long to set her plan in motion: she and the Organas attend a ball at the Almack’s a week later, and to her delight, she finds Kaydel in attendance. She soon finds a way to engage her in conversation, while still keeping close enough to Ben, who is currently talking to Lord Hux — a task, Rey knows, he does not undertake easily or comfortably, but so is the price of social life.

When the dance is about to begin, Ben turns to Rey and offers her his hand. “Shall we?”

“Oh, you know, B— my lord,” she says, quickly correcting herself into proper etiquette, “I seem to have a problem with my shoe, and cannot dance until I see to it. But,” she adds, stepping aside to artfully reveal the companion behind her, “I believe Lady Kaydel does not have a partner yet.”

“That is true,” Kaydel confirms. “I’m very fond of dancing, but,” she adds with a smile at Rey, “I was so engrossed by our conversation I did not think to secure a partner.”

Ben gives her a small bow. “Your choice of company does you credit. May I have this dance, Lady Kaydel?”

“You may.”

Rey watches them make their way to the ballroom with a mixture of intense satisfaction with her own stratagem and a small pang she cannot explain — nor does she have time to examine it, as she must find a quiet location and pretend to see to her shoe. She quickly makes her way to the ladies’ room on the second floor.

After long enough has passed that the second dance must be well under way, Rey returns to observe the ballroom only to be disappointed: Ben is now dancing with Jannah, while Kaydel smiles happily as she dances with Rose. How could Ben not ask her for a second dance?! Not only is she one of the most stunning ladies in the room, but she also possesses ready smiles and quick wit! How was Ben not riveted by her? Frustrated, Rey takes a seat and waits; she shall have more opportunities to fix this throughout the evening.

When the dance is over, though, Rey watches powerlessly as Kaydel and Rose move to the opposite side of the room, while Ben returns to hers.

“May I enquire after your shoe situation, Miss Niima?” He asks with a small, timid smile. Despite all of her intentions, Rey’s pulse quickens — just a bit — at the mere sight of it.

“My shoe is all well now, thank you, my lord,” she says, standing up and discreetly showing him each of her shoes to prove it.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replies. “I would hate for you to lose the opportunity to enjoy the ball. I know how much you love to dance.”

“And I know what a sacrifice it is to _you,”_ she replies, just shy of laughing out loud, “and so I thank you for all the times you do us ladies the honor!”

Her own smile opens up more at the sight of Ben’s lips twitching, in a futile attempt to remain serious. It has been a decade-long game of theirs for her to try and break his mask of gravity, and for him to try and maintain it despite her best efforts; over the years, she has emerged victorious more often than her sparring partner.

“I will do you the honor, as you call it, right now, then,” he replies, offering her his hand once again.

“Me?”

“If you’ll have me,” he adds hastily, unsure.

She promptly takes his hand, lest he thinks she no longer enjoys his company; as if there were anyone else she would rather talk or dance with!

“Lead the way, my lord,” she says, with an exaggerated bow.

As the dancing commences, Ben mumbles, in a tone nine parts resignation and one of annoyance, “I can’t wait until we are back home, and you no longer have to call me that.”

Rey wears the most mockingly serious face available in her repertoire. “Does my calling you ‘my lord’ trouble you, my lord?”

He purses his lips, this time in genuine frustration.

“It’s nonsense,” he protests in a hush as they go down the line of dancers together, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “You’re closer to me than anybody else, you should be allowed to call me Ben in public.”

Between the touch of Ben’s hand and the quiet fervor of his words, Rey can only hope she is not blushing too violently. If her face even remotely matches the warmth blooming in her chest, it must look like an absolute storm.

“You know why; it’s not proper. Besides, you are a lord,” she retorts as they part, only continuing when they’re face to face again, “and I am a nobody.”

Her gentle, self-mocking smile is there as she says it. She has learned, over the years, to put it on as she repeats her motto, as if it’s a fact that neither prickles nor pierces; after years of hearing it from others, she has mastered the art of saying it before anyone else does.

But as they both step forward and spin around each other, Ben murmurs, “But not to me.”

༻❈༺ 

The next morning, the delights of the ball and of Ben’s unfaltering presence by Rey’s side during the evening fade into guilt; she had made up her mind to make a match of him and Kaydel, only to cast her goal aside at the first hurdle and selfishly keep Ben for herself for the rest of the ball. What sort of matchmaker is she, if she cannot follow through with the simplest of plans?

No matter; she still has an entire season to bring the two of them together. She steals a glance at Ben, her only remaining breakfast companion, currently occupied in silently devouring a plateful of eggs and ham. Time to begin her efforts anew.

“Did you not find Lady Kaydel exceedingly pretty last night?”

Raising his eyes, Ben blinks with some surprise. “Lady Kaydel?” He echoes distractedly, as if uncertain of who they’re talking about. “Yes, I believe she was much admired yesterday. I did hear a few ladies comment on her tiara and… something about her gown, if I’m not mistaken. A green crepe silk gown,” he recites with a vaguely triumphant tone, as though being able to recall such small details were a personal victory.

Rey tries to suppress a sigh, but it comes out as a huffed laugh.

“As impressive as it is that you have finally learned to tell silk and muslin apart—”

“Thank you, I am impressed myself.”

“— what I meant was, didn’t _you,_ personally, find her pretty last night?”

“Me? Oh, I did not remark upon it. Yes, I suppose she did look quite well.”

The complete indifference of his tone discourages Rey even more than last night’s tenuous results. While she tries to find the right words to set Ben on the right course, he adds quietly, “You looked very pretty yourself last night. No other lady was quite your equal.”

About silences, it has been frequently noted that the louder they are, the more they amplify the words just spoken — and the one that follows Ben’s words is no exception. They leave Rey too spellbound, too preoccupied with her own racing heartbeat, to have an intelligible answer, but not enough to miss the tip of Ben’s ears turning pinker the longer the silence goes on.

“Anyway,” he says abruptly, as he returns his focus to his plate with renewed voracity, “as for Lady Kaydel, I do hope her father will see reason.”

The sudden change of subject, as well as the inscrutability of his words, takes Rey by surprise; she thinks for a few seconds, trying to gauge the meaning of them, but is soon forced to concede defeat.

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm? Oh, I meant, I hope he gives up the idea of her marrying within their rank. It’s ridiculous that the two of them shouldn’t marry.”

By the end of that sentence, her eyes are so wide she fears they have grown to the size of entire teacups.

“To whom are you referring?” she asks weakly.

“Why, Lady Kaydel and— wait,” he says, staring at her and holding his fork midair. Carefully, Ben puts down the silver and wipes his mouth with the napkin, looking at her with sudden curiosity. “You don’t know?”

“I assure you I haven’t the faintest idea of what you mean!”

From the way Ben looks at her, one would think Rey has just suggested that Xanadu is the capital of England.

“You cannot possibly be unaware. It’s as clear as the day itself!”

With exasperation rising at the mystery, Rey throws her hands up in the air. “And yet, I _am_ unaware!” she says dramatically. “Please, oh All Knowing Lord, reveal thy meaning to thy lowly servant!”

Chuckling, Ben meticulously folds his napkin, peeking at her through the hair that insists on falling over his eyes. Usually, it makes Rey want to run her fingers through it so she can see his face better, but now she can only focus on the enigma.

“I rather think,” he says slowly, “that I shall leave it at that. Suffice to say that Lady Kaydel has bestowed her affections on someone, but as they cannot marry due to their difference in rank, it should not be talked about. However,” he adds, getting up from the table with a shameless smirk, “I would very much like to see whether you can find out who it is through your own observations. It shouldn’t be too hard.” With this and a wink — a _wink,_ of all things! — he quits the breakfast room, leaving a stunned Rey behind.

He left her a… a riddle! Honestly! Ben can be so aggravating at times. Whoever can he mean?!

_“Lady Kaydel has bestowed her affections on someone.”_

And _that_ is a revelation very much unwelcome, too. Kaydel was perfect. Beauty, intelligent conversation, equality of rank, all the desired accomplishments in a lady!…

It forces Rey to begin afresh. If left to his own devices, Ben will die an old man, buried in his library without a family to be proud of in his youth and to lend him comfort in his old age.

Ben’s future happiness depends on her.

**Section III**

**“Not Foolish”**

Alone in the drawing room, Rey goes through her correspondence without giving it the proper attention it would otherwise deserve; her mind is full of only one idea.

Maybe, she thinks, the problem is that she didn’t start with the first item of her list. ‘Not foolish’. It was the very first thing mentioned at the table, and by Poe Dameron, no less; if anyone knows what Ben thinks and wants, it will certainly be his oldest friend.

She had focused on beauty, assuming none of the women with whom they usually associate are foolish, but there lay her mistake: for Ben, who is irritated by the trivialities of society and has bookish interests, good conversation and common sense are not enough to qualify one as “not foolish”. He needs a truly well-informed, sensible spouse; someone with whom he can talk with in equal terms and on whom he can rely for help with the administration of the Organa estate.

Still focusing on the new conundrum, Rey opens a note from Rose and gives it a cursory glance — until one singular word catches her attention.

_“…Paige and I would very much enjoy your company, if…”_

Paige! Of course!

Putting the letter down, Rey stares into the distance. It is true that the Ticos come from trade, but it is not uncommon for men to marry below their rank when a pretty enough face or a big enough fortune is involved — and Paige Tico, Rose’s elder sister, has both. Their father purchased Hays Manor a little more than twelvemonth ago, and one day Paige will inherit the entire estate. She was educated at Cambridge, just like Ben, is her father’s right hand in the management of their land, and is one of the most sensible people Rey knows.

Going back to the letter, Rey finally realizes it contains an invitation to the opera tomorrow; perfect! Ben loves the opera, and is bound to be impressed by the extensive musical knowledge Rey knows Paige to have.

She hastens to write back.

༻❈༺ 

Rey and Ben are the first ones to arrive at the theater, followed closely by Finn and Captain Dameron; while waiting for the Miss Ticos, Ben and Captain Dameron talk of the _HMS Resistance,_ Dameron’s new ship, and Rey and Finn talk of matters much closer to their hearts. She has had precious few opportunities to really talk to Finn since his arrival in London — a private conversation between close friends is a pleasure easily obtained in the country, but a rare luxury during the season, where the goal is only to see and be seen and thought fashionable.

Now, however, she can steal a couple of minutes of his company and ask him about his personal affairs.

“And you are spending the day in Southwark tomorrow?” she asks.

“Yes,” Finn replies, opening up a bright smile. “I reckoned I had better tell my family in person rather than in a letter, seeing as we are here in London anyway. And Poe is coming with me.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! Please send all my love to your mother. So,” she grins at her friend. “Is Captain Dameron going to ask your parents? Properly?”

Rey has never been happier to ask a question, for its immediate effect is something rarely witnessed: an abashed Finn. She sees him trying not to fiddle, his eyes wandering around the room as he tries to contain a smile, and she admires it for as long as it lasts. Not only is it a rare sight, but one so dear to her that she shall not soon forget it.

“He is, yes,” Finn says at last, after recovering something of his composure.

Taking his hand in hers, Rey smiles and whispers, “I cannot wait until it’s official, so we can talk about it freely.”

He squeezes her hand. “We’ll soon be able to.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts them, and Rey turns around to find Ben, suddenly much closer to her than before.

“The Miss Ticos have arrived,” he says, somewhat coldly; his eyes quickly take in Finn’s hands between Rey’s before they move away, and he nods towards the two sisters making their way to them. After the customary pleasantries have been exchanged between all involved, they move inside.

Although the invitation had come from the Tico sisters, Ben had quickly offered his family’s private box for the evening, _“since it is our own,”_ Rey had quoted him on her answering note, _“and it remains unused for so much of the year. We should make the most of it while in town and would be delighted to be of service to you and your sister.”_ And so it had been decided to the pleasure and convenience of all.

Which means that now anyone looking can see Ben leading the eldest Miss Tico on his arm, into the Organa private box, and sitting by her side on the foremost row. Rey allows herself a small moment of inner celebration: she didn’t even have to conceive any sort of stratagem to place the two of them together! Taking the seat behind them, she hears Ben and Paige’s conversation.

“…and our steward and I came to the conclusion that hazel and ash would be much better additions to our woods,” Paige says.

“And you were absolutely right,” says Ben gravely. “I’m glad to see you and your father devote yourselves so well to the management of the estate; I’m sorry to say not all landowners do so. For our own coppicing in Aldera, we have decided to—”

Of course the two landowners would talk about estate management. Few things are as precious to Ben as Aldera, a sentiment thoroughly echoed by Rey. By now, she knows everything about the estate, every square inch of its woods, every tenant by name and how long they have been there. She could not be more interested in it or love it more if it were her own.

And soon she will have to say goodbye to it.

She consoles herself with the thought that, at the very least, she will leave as soon as she finds a position with a good family and will not have to watch Ben live in Aldera Castle with his wife, once he comes into the earldom. Rey will be long gone by then, and he will no longer remember her beyond the occasional Christmas letter — and even that will slowly wane into nothing the more his obligations at home and at Parliament call for his attention. One day, Ben will think of Rey Niima no more.

The sigh she lets out then is loud enough to make Rose look at her in surprise. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, I was just—”

Ben promptly turns around to face her, concerned. “If you are not well, say one word and I will take you home,” he offers.

“No, _please,_ do not worry,” she hurries to reassure them. Even if she were indeed feeling ill, the last thing she would want is to undo the almost certain match between Ben and Paige. “I assure you I’m quite all right.”

Satisfied of there being nothing wrong with her friend, Rose turns her attention to the stage, but Ben needs some further reassurance, and Rey manages to assuage his fears just as the curtains open. To her relief, Ben and Paige still exchange a couple more words before the music begins.

As the first act progresses, however, she finds less and less to justify her premature celebration: Paige would clearly rather focus on the opera than on her companion, and Ben seems content enough to let it be so, making no efforts to continue the conversation. Meanwhile, Captain Dameron has his back turned to the stage, in order to talk with Finn, more often than he watches the opera. That, Rey thinks bitterly, is how someone in love ought to behave, no matter how passionate they are about opera. Clearly Ben and Paige need more encouragement.

During the _entr’acte_ , they all head for the tearoom, where their little party soon disassembles: Rose excuses herself to talk to lady Kaydel, whom she immediately finds; Finn takes a seat at Lady Jannah’s table, while Paige and Captain Dameron converse with Vice Admiral Holdo of the Royal Navy. That leaves Rey as Ben’s sole company while they wait for their tea; she tries to strike a conversation about people they see around the room, but Ben’s answers are remarkably short and terse, smothering Rey’s attempts at a dialogue before they can even sprout. Ben has never been overly keen on busy public rooms, but tonight he’s being less gracious about it than usual.

After some more failed efforts, Rey gives up, content to wait and watch in silence. And it is that which finally seems to bring forth a complete sentence from her companion:

“I thought you would take a place by Finnegan’s side,” he says in a low tone.

Her eyes widen. “No, why would I? I’m quite happy where I am.”

For the first time since they left the box, Ben looks straight at her. “You are?” He asks, and the mild shock in his voice is nothing short of perplexing. Why would she go anywhere else, when Ben is right here?

She has a fervent reassurance ready to fall from her lips, when they both catch sight of Miss Netal coming into the room on the arm of Lord Grummgar. Rey cannot help but notice that it does not vex Ben in the least; he bows to her in acknowledgment of their acquaintance, she curtsies back, and that is the end of it. On her side, Rey looks the other way and pretends not to see the young woman at all.

Once Miss Netal has moved on, Ben gives Rey a sideways glance, seemingly holding back some laughter. “I see you’re not too fond of Miss Netal.”

“Well!” she replies, trying her best not to sound outraged, and unsure of how badly she is failing at it. “I don’t see why I should be, after what she did to you.”

Ben shakes his head. “You’re mistaken. She has not injured me — could not injure me, as I was never attached to her. Yes, it is true,” he says, seeing Rey raise her eyebrows in disbelief. “It was pleasant enough to pay her the attentions she feels she’s entitled to, and it was flattering to have them reciprocated, as it helped me forget my own feel— in short,” he adds, after a brief pause, cutting off whatever he was about to say, “I was quite safe from whatever wound she would have carelessly inflicted on me.”

He says it calmly and unaffectedly, which is enough to persuade her that her previous fears on his account were unfounded; it still does not absolve Miss Netal’s behavior, but that lady is no longer Rey’s concern, to her infinite satisfaction.

༻❈༺ 

As their party head back to the box, Ben suddenly turns to Rose:

“Miss Rose, would you like to take my seat on the front row?” he offers, and adds with a smile, “You cannot have a good view of the stage sitting behind me. I’m quite aware of my own height and size.”

Rose laughs at that. “I will admit it does not make watching the opera any easier, but I wouldn’t want to cause you any discomfort. It is _your_ box, after all.”

Vehemently, Ben assures her the box is at her and her sister’s service, that he’s seen this particular opera before, and that nothing would make him happier than to switch places. And that is how, to the absolute ruin of Rey’s plans, Ben abandons his seat by Paige and takes the one next to her instead.

Rey tells herself not to despair; surely there will be plenty of opportunity over the coming days to set Ben on Paige’s path and vice-versa. She might as well enjoy his presence now.

“You said you’ve seen _Le nozze di Figaro_ before?” she asks, curiously.

Ben nods. “In ‘89, when I was in Vienna. And,” he smiles, “I see your Italian remains as perfect as ever.”

Rey feels her face redden. “Hardly! I would be very sorry to be compared to someone truly well versed in it; it is only enough to make me understand the libretto and what the actors are singing.”

“Yes, I see,” he agrees solemnly. The curtains open for the second act, and the only acknowledgment he gives it is to tone his voice down to a murmur. “Your Italian must be very poor indeed. Only enough to understand words in a song, where they obey not the rules of speech, but the whims of metric and rhythm, and to understand the story in its entirety after reading the libretto once. You are truly ignorant of the language,” he concludes, his smile so open now that it makes him look ten years younger.

She stares at him for a moment, so utterly taken by the vision that she forgets to reply. For all his perfect politeness, Ben seldom smiles like this, and whenever he does, Rey makes sure to engrave it in her heart. That in this occasion his boyish smile is _for_ her and _because_ of her only adds to its value.

“Oh, please, for shame,” she whispers, lightly slapping his knee with the libretto to both make him stop and disguise the fast beating of her heart, which, she is sure, anyone in the box can hear. Looking for another topic to use as a distraction, she picks the first one that comes to her mind. “I heard you talking about Aldera, and it reminded me: you received a letter from Mr. Antilles this morning, did you not? Was it about his lease?”

“It was,” Ben replies immediately, fully turning to her and openly ignoring the opera. “I shall bring it to my mother’s attention tomorrow, but I would like to know your thoughts: he has new ideas for the crop rotations.”

“Does he? That’s a good sign; his father was always content to never innovate in anything.”

“That is precisely what I think of it. In his letter, he explained that—”

The two of them are immediately consumed by their conversation for the rest of the second act, getting into the fine details of farming techniques and stock breeding and ignoring the opera altogether; when the intermission begins and the rest of their party leaves for more tea and conversation, they barely notice it.

༻❈༺ 

As Captain Dameron and Finn bid their farewell to the others, Rey pulls Rose aside.

“Have you and your sister any plans for tomorrow? I thought the four of us might go to the Ranelagh Gardens in the morning.”

“Oh, we would love to! We just love the gardens, and besides,” Rose lowers her voice to a secretive hush, “Paige can use as many engagements with close friends as possible.”

Rey knits her brow in confusion. “How come?”

Looking around to make sure the others can’t hear, Rose explains, “She does not wish to be thought to be looking for a husband. You see, Paige has an _understanding_ with Mr. Rook, from Jedha Hall, not ten miles away from our estate. He and Paige have spent much time in each other’s companies and, I will say, they are a perfect match. He, of course, is quite taken with her! It hasn’t been announced yet, but it soon will be.”

“Is that so?” Rey says, at a loss as to how else to reply. This is not exactly how she had envisioned tonight ending.

Once the Organa-Solo coach has taken the Miss Ticos home, and Rose has secured their garden engagement for tomorrow, Rey sinks despondently against the cushions and closes her eyes.

“Are you sure you are all right, Rey?” Ben asks her, all the concern from earlier returning in an instant.

“Yes, don’t worry, I’m just… tired.” Opening her eyes again, she stares out the window, watching the bright lights of lamp posts and private houses pass by in a blur as the coach makes its way through the London streets. After a long silence, she murmurs:

“Are you ever tired of… having expectations? Of expecting things to go a certain way, only for them to go in the opposite direction?”

Another moment of silence passes between them, before Ben lets out a long sigh and a low, “Constantly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, Helen! I hope you like your gift, and that it brings you some joy at the moment 💗
> 
> There's one more chapter, as you guys can see, but worry not: it's written, and undergoing beta work as you read this. I'll be posting ch.2 on Monday — Tuesday at the latest, if real life gets in the way somehow.
> 
> This was inspired by the whole Jane Austen body of work, of course, and more specifically by "Emma", but ALSO by this teen romance novel I LOVED when I was in high-school, "Kissing Caroline". There's also a small homage to a scene I really like in Austen's "Persuasion," so you know. This is a mix of a whole bunch of things XD
> 
> Thank you to my amazing betas [Rae](https://twitter.com/regardingluv) and [Star](https://twitter.com/littlestarlost), you guys are the best! ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)
> 
> I also have a [musician AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204260/chapters/55549408) going (with violinist Rey and pianist Ben), in case you like modern settings and music, a [canon-divergent AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002497/chapters/57740473) in case you want robin hood reylo in space, and the merry knights of ren with actual personalities, and a [social media P&P/AITA AU on twitter](https://twitter.com/thehobbem/status/1228487438542286849)!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thehobbem.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thehobbem), where I rant about Star Wars, reylo, and Adam Driver, but also about many other things, because pop culture just keeps on giving, for better or for worse. ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Section IV**

**“Share his interests”**

Normally, a morning spent in the Ranelagh Gardens would have been the utmost delight for Rey, as it is one of her favorite spots in all of London. There is nothing in it that she does not admire, and even the rotunda, which she would otherwise object to for its rococo style, sits so prettily in the middle of the garden that she finds the final effect agreeable enough.

Today, though, not even all the greenery and the walk around the lake can offer her consolation, nor distract her from her goal. Although she and the Organa-Solos are to stay in town until the end of June, courtship is no swift feat, and it takes its time to pay tribute to propriety; if she is to find a wife for Ben, she must do it fast.

But who?

Their party today consists of herself, Ben, the Miss Ticos, Lady Jannah and Lady Kaydel; with Paige immersed in conversation with Kaydel and Jannah, and Ben and Rose talking animatedly together, Rey has a small measure of solitude that allows her to devote her thoughts to a new plan.

‘Handsome’ and ‘not foolish’ did not work as well as she’d intended. Perhaps both of these elements were of secondary importance from the start, and what she needs is to find someone who shares the same inclinations as Ben; the rest would naturally follow.

So consumed she is by the wheels turning in her head that the fragments of her companions’ conversation reach her as if from a long distance, even though she is not three steps behind.

“…and we have Shires for work in the field, of course,” she hears Rose say, followed by Ben’s approval.

“We use them in Aldera as well. They’re sturdy but docile, there’s no better horse for work. Which ones do you have for your own use?”

Rey goes over Ben’s interests; these are many and varied. He is extremely fond of music, painting, theater, and is a most skilled fencer, but above all else, he loves books and horses. Whom does she know that matches this description, at least in part?

“…and Miss Niima’s Arabian mare is highly intelligent, as well as spirited,” Ben continues.

“Ohh, but Arabians usually are, aren’t they?” Rose agrees. “I rode one in Jedha Hall, and I was simply in love with her!”

Whom does she know that is pretty, intelligent, not too inferior in rank, and whose leisure pursuits are similar to Ben’s?

“Paige’s is a thoroughbred,” Rose goes on enthusiastically.

“What, for riding?! How did that come about?” Ben inquires.

“He was meant for the races, of course, but he had such poor results when tested that our father decided instead to gift him to Paige. I confess I quite envy her sometimes,” Rose adds with a laugh. “It is the best horse in the family!”

Rey stops in her tracks. The rest of the party is so engaged in their own topics that no one notices when Rey stops and falls behind, and she has the advantage of a few seconds to watch them unobserved.

_Rose._

Rose is the only person of their entire acquaintance who can rival Rey’s love, as well as Ben’s and Admiral Solo’s, for horses. She’s as well educated as her sister, with a mind even more inquisitive, and just as involved in the management of their estate. She has beauty as well as the warmest, most charming manners to recommend her, not to mention £30,000 on her marriage. And lastly, she has long been a favorite of all at Aldera Castle. There are few in this world whom Rey loves or trusts more than Rose.

She is perfect.

༻❈༺ 

“I’m sure Mrs. Tico would much rather sit next to her own husband,” Lady Organa says with a sigh, shaking her head. “In her defense, he is much preferable company to the earl — Lord Dulathia is so insufferably _dull._ ”

Rey laughs, unconcerned with being discreet about it. _“A lady never laughs out loud in public. But if she truly is the mistress of her house, she will laugh like she pleases,”_ she’d told an awe-struck ten-year-old Rey. Only recently arrived at Aldera, Rey had not known then whether to be more in awe of the magnitude and luxury of her surroundings, the beauty of the Countess of Organa, the majesty with which she carried herself, or the knowledge she’d just imparted.

 _“But this is your home now,”_ the countess had added, _“and you needn’t be afraid of laughing out loud here. Especially not with me.”_

And so, under the judicious scrutiny of one of the finest ladies in the country, Rey had learned to be the image of the perfect young lady — accomplished, graceful, modest but firm — while able to maintain her more lively inclinations in the intimacy of home. That Admiral Solo and Ben openly disdained society’s hollow rules of conduct had added even more to her comfort.

“But I’m afraid Mrs. Tico will have to suffer table etiquette, just as we all do, and be seated next to Lord Dulathia,” Lady Organa concludes, writing it down. “And who should be next to her, my dear?”

Rey takes a look at the guest list. “That will be… well, Admiral Ackbar is already near Admiral Solo… I believe it’s Ben, ma’am.”

“Then Ben shall be Mrs. Tico’s salvation from dying of boredom,” the countess says, scribbling Ben’s name on the seating plan. Before she can even ask, Rey hurries to add:

“And Rose can be next to him.”

Lady Organa nods, adding Rose’s name next to Ben’s. Soon Rey arranges matters so that she has Captain Chewbacca between her and her two friends — and Captain Chewbacca’s height is enough to hide even Ben from her sight. She doesn’t need to oversee Ben and Rose. Their long acquaintance, their shared interests, Rose’s undeniable charms, and Ben’s… well, everything, really, are sure to carry out the rest. She has had quite enough of watching Ben with other ladies, there is no need to continue.

Once the seating arrangements are concluded, Lady Organa puts the map aside with a satisfied little sigh. “And that is finished. A dinner party is always so much trouble, and so seldom worth it. But if Han and Ben won’t leave the house to see other people, I shall bring other people to see _them.”_

Rey tuts sympathetically. She remembers, as clearly as if it were yesterday, the years after Ben came back from his Grand Tour: Lady Organa insisting he come with her to London, and Ben steadfastly refusing, stating there was nothing and no one in London with any claim to his time or interest. His mother usually won the argument by mentioning the plays and concerts he would not see if he stayed home. Not having come out yet, Rey invariably stayed behind with her governess and teacher, Miss Kanata, dreaming of everything she would do and see when she finally went to London.

There was one year though, the last one before Rey came out, where Ben had won the fight and not gone to London, remaining in Aldera instead and keeping her company. For the entire spring, their days had been their own: they went for long rides in the country and walks in the shrubbery, read books, enacted scenes of their favorite plays, and danced in the silence of the great hall. Now Rey enjoys the London season with the rest of the Organas, and Ben has stopped protesting the trip; but she still thinks of that single spring as the best season of her life.

Just another memory of which she must learn to let go once she leaves Aldera.

“They do so rarely leave the house, do they not?” says Rey, in an effort to drive those thoughts out of her mind. “I don’t think I have seen the admiral go out more than five times.”

Lady Organa chuckles. “He goes out when I insist, but I would rather not push the matter. Han is not made for the frivolousness of high society. He was not born into it, but having had the misfortune of _marrying_ into it, we seek to strike a balance. I think we mostly succeed,” she reflects philosophically. “As for Ben… He has too much of his father’s heart in him, for better and for worse. I’m glad you are around to convince him to leave the house, though.” With a piercing look at her, the countess changes the subject: “What about you, Rey? Have you met anyone this season that might make you wish to leave us?”

Blushing, Rey shakes her head. Ben has been kind enough not to disclose her decision to earn a living to his parents, but this conversation must be had sooner rather than later. For now, however, she chooses to let Lady Organa assume she has no plans to leave, and tries to laugh off the topic.

“No one yet, I’m afraid! It may be unkind of me to say so, but I do believe gentlemen are more or less all the same this season — I can barely tell apart a Mr. Beaumont from a Mr. Wexley! They all have the same airs, same conversation and same hats.”

Lady Organa laughs at that, with a discreet _“That is true enough,”_ which encourages Rey to add, “There’s no one in London that could ever bear comparison to—” she stops.

 _To Ben,_ is what she was about to say.

Oh.

Oh no.

_Drat._

“— to the ideals in my head,” she completes, after only the lightest of pauses.

“Well, my dear,” her guardian replies, good-humoredly, “very few things can ever bear comparison to our ideals. But I think you’ll find that ideals, more often than not, are based on very little more than air and dreams, while realities can be shaped by our own hands and feelings. I’m sure you’ll find someone to show that to you, once you start really looking.”

Rey smiles, and redirects the conversation back to tonight’s dinner party. There is nothing else she can say, now that she realizes exactly where to find that someone — and just how out of her reach he is, no matter how close.

༻❈༺ 

The party unfolds as anything organized by Lady Organa always does: brilliantly and efficiently. Between the countess’ deeply honed social skills and her husband’s rough charisma, the guests find themselves engrossed in conversation with people they might not, before tonight, have suspected of being able to do so.

Rey is not one of those. She spends the entire dinner endeavoring to focus solely on Captain Chewbacca on her left, Mr. Tico on her right, and Paige across from her, and mostly determined to _not_ pay attention to Ben and Rose’s conversation. That proves harder than she imagined; her attention continuously slips to her left, past the captain and straight into the very exchanges she does not wish to listen to, but that occupy so much room in her mind whether she likes it or not.

Here they talk about riding and horses, there a promise that Rose shall ride Ben’s black Andalusian the next time she’s in Aldera; now a conversation about Mrs. Radcliffe’s _The Italian,_ and how Ben vastly prefers it to _The Mysteries of Udolpho,_ while Rose defends that _The Romance of the Forest_ is still the writer’s best work.

No one can deny they share many of the same interests. Rey has been successful at last, but the victory does not taste nearly as sweet as she previously anticipated.

The blame lies entirely at her doorstep; and yet, she reasons with herself, what would have been achieved, had she known her own heart sooner? She would still not have been a suitable match for Ben. Who is she, but merely the granddaughter of a disgraced baron who left her nothing out of spite? What does she have to offer but a paltry £1,000? What claims could she possibly have to Ben’s heart?

༻❈༺ 

As it so often happens, a dinner party cannot but be followed by one or two accomplished young ladies showing their musical skill at the pianoforte, should there be one in the house; and as the Organa residence does indeed have a particularly good one, the instrument is soon prepared for the delight of the company.

Lady Organa wastes no time in entreating Kaydel to do them the honor. After the usual protests out of modesty, Kaydel accepts the invitation as any lady would.

Relieved by not being asked to go first, Rey finds a seat by the window, a little further away from the others, which allows her to go unnoticed for as long as the playing goes on. Not only is Kaydel’s playing and singing a welcome pleasure, but it also means all conversation is suspended for the present, which includes Ben and Rose. And when Rose stands up and offers to turn the pages for her friend, leaving Ben behind, all the more peace of mind is afforded to Rey, however temporary.

_Did you hear My Lady go down the garden singing_

_Blackbird and thrush were silent to hear the alleys ringing_

_Oh, saw you not My Lady out in the garden there_

_Shaming rose and lily, for she is twice as fair_

To the general surprise, as well as Kaydel’s, Rose joins in for a duet, and they smile at each other as they sing in perfect harmony:

_Though I am nothing to her, though she must rarely look at me_

_And though I could never woo her, I love her till I die_

“ _Tolomeo,_ ” says Ben softly, and Rey nearly jumps, completely unaware of _when_ , exactly, Ben took the seat next to her. He looks at her with a soft smile — so soft, in fact, that it’s barely there. “Handel. The adaptation into English is quite beautiful, though I’m sure you’d be able to sing it perfectly in Italian.”

Looking for something to do so she can forget her own heart and confusion, Rey casts her eyes down, carefully smoothing her dress as if no other activity could possibly interest her more. “I believe we have already established that you think more highly of my Italian than it deserves.”

“We have agreed to disagree on the subject,” he says dismissively. The conversation is put on hold as the duet ends. Applause and compliments follow, and as soon as the request for another song is duly complied with and the music restarts, it gives Ben the cover to ask:

“Is anything the matter? You have scarcely spoken two words throughout the evening.”

She still avoids his eyes. “You must have not seen me talking with those sitting around me.”

“You listened to what others had to say, that much is true,” he says, before adding with a touch of irony, “You even smiled at times! But to call it _talking_ is a stretch.”

“I just… I feel indisposed,” she lies. “And I thought it a pity to reveal it and ruin the party.”

Rey waits for the concern that is sure to follow; and then, hopefully, he either will insist that she go to bed or leave her alone for the rest of the evening.

What follows instead is a long silence, filled purely with the music. The longer she waits for Ben’s reaction, the more her anxiety about it (or maybe desire for it) grows in her chest; it fills her and drowns her, until it’s so unbearable that she can’t help but look at him — and finds him gazing at her.

‘Gazing’, in fact, would be a poor word. She finds his eyes _pouring_ over her, brimming with the intensity she’s long come to know, and with more pleading than she’s ever seen in them. As if he’s momentarily shed the very last layer that protects him and she can finally see him; not the Lord Solo that he presents to the world, nor the Ben that he extends to her in the friendship of a lifetime, but _him,_ as he is.

His lips part, forming ‘Rey’ without uttering a sound, and her heart wraps itself around the sight of it —

— and in the blink of an eye, it’s gone.

Ben is once again the composed Lord Solo, watching his guests perform a duet as he whispers to her, “I know you, Miss Niima. You may think I don’t, but I do. I know when you’re indisposed, and I know when you’re lying. I only wish you could be honest with me.”

She knows insisting on her lie will be useless. He does know her, _has_ always known her, which is the very thing to give her hopes she can’t sustain, and from which she wishes to detach herself. Looking away once again, she shakes her head.

“It is better if we don’t talk about it.”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him nod, and they exchange not another word.

Kaydel and Rose’s singing comes to an end just then, and she and Ben join in the general praise of the duo as the ladies abandon the instrument and protest the compliments, swearing by their lack of talent, as it is the rule in these situations.

To Rey’s infinite chagrin, Admiral Solo turns around and scans the party until he finds her. “What about you, Miss Niima? I believe it’s your turn now,” he says with a smile.

As others join their voices to the request, Rey has no choice but to comply and, taking her place at the piano with her best pretense at good humor, she takes a sheet music at random. Recognizing it at a glance, she starts to play, her mind still racing towards Ben and Rose and not at all musically inclined, while a lump builds in her throat.

_Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine_

_Or leave a kiss within the cup, and I'll not ask for wine._

When the next verse begins, she finds her eyes welling up, and no sound comes out when she opens her lips.

There’s a little shifting, a few heads turned sharply her way, and she searches for her voice, willing it to come out and her tears to _not_ fall, when another voice intervenes:

_The thirst that from the soul doth rise_

_Doth ask a drink divine_

When she looks up, Ben is standing by her side, quietly turning the page for her as he continues,

_But might I of love's nectar sip_

_I would not change for thine._

Ben is singing. He _loathes_ singing in public, hasn’t done so in years — most of their acquaintance do not even know how good he is at it. Ben himself doesn’t know how good he is, constantly assuring her that his voice is coarse and unsuited for song; he is completely in the wrong, of course, as he is wont to be in anything related to his own abilities, but Rey has yet to convince him of it.

Yet here he is, displaying what he sees as a flaw just so he can come to her rescue.

When the next verse begins, the lump in Rey’s throat has disappeared, and they both sing in one voice:

_I sent thee late a rosy wreath, not so much honoring thee_

_As giving it a hope, that there it could not withered be._

Another turn of the page, and as their eyes meet, Ben gives her a hint of the boyish smile she cherishes so much.

_But thou thereon didst only breathe, and sent'st it back to me;_

_Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, not of itself, but thee._

As the applause fills the room, the only thing Rey can see is the vestige of Ben’s smile on his lips, and the clear, indelible image of it in her heart.

**Section V**

**The Engagement**

Breakfast the next morning is a silent affair. There’s only Rey and Admiral Solo at the table, and bright sunlight filtering through the windows that emphasize the sheer size of the room, the perfect polish of the wooden floor, the number of unoccupied chairs around the table, and the emptiness of it all without Ben sitting across from her.

The admiral, as usual, is content to wordlessly read the papers, occasionally sharing news he thinks will interest her.

This is good. It’s silent. She needs silence for now. And she would be satisfied with it, if it weren’t for the fact that the source of the silence is an absence of Ben. Not that he would be particularly more talkative than his father — he would not — but silences shared with Ben are of a different nature. They’re comfortable and warm, as if her silence isn’t enough for him to forget her.

“It’s pretty late for Ben,” she says tentatively. Lady Organa has long left the house in order to attend the Parliament session, but there’s been no sign of Ben yet. Although he has never been much of an early bird, and they had all gone to bed late after the party, eleven o’clock is far past Ben’s normal hours.

“Hmm? Oh, Ben’s already left,” says the admiral, raising his eyes from the newspaper only for a moment. “He was the first to breakfast; said he had an engagement with Miss Rose Tico. I believe they went riding.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” she says desolately. Her voice must have betrayed her misery, as the admiral finally looks at her long and attentively, instead of dispensing her a mere glance over the newspaper.

“Is everything okay, child?” he asks, with feigned nonchalance. Like Ben, he’s terrible at disguising concern, and woefully unaware of it.

Rey waves a hand, as if she could physically dismiss the question. “Yes, I’m fine, I was just thinking.”

He hums, not saying anything else for a few seconds before adding abruptly, “Did you want to go? Ben should have asked you to go with him.”

“Oh, no, not at all, sir,” she hastily replies. The answer is, she thinks, largely true; there’s a small part of her that wishes she were by Ben’s side instead of Rose, but mostly, she would rather avoid seeing them together whenever she can.

“Hmm… right,” the admiral says with eyebrows raised, trying (and failing) to look like he believes her. “Well, I am sure Ben would have preferred you to be there. There is no other company he would rather have.”

Despite herself, she chuckles. “Thank you, admiral, but I don’t think that is true.”

Her protest does the unthinkable: the admiral puts down the paper and stares at her in disbelief. While aiming at escaping further inquiry, she has only managed to garner more attention to herself.

“I had not supposed you to be blind, Rey, but I have been wrong before — not too often, though. What makes you think Ben does not enjoy your company?”

Surprised by how dismayed Admiral Solo sounds, Rey attempts to amend herself. “I just mean that surely he has other friends, such as Captain Dameron, whose company he might enjoy more than mine, due to a… an equality, if you will, of thinking, age, and even of standing.”

The admiral’s immediate response is an indignant huff.

“Equality of standing… you know him better than to suspect him of that! As for affinity of thinking,” he says, a slow, mischievous smile forming, as if he is about to reveal something he shouldn’t, “Ben will invariably prefer someone who thinks differently, even _challenges_ his way of thinking. All Solos do, my dear. Look at Leia and I!”

She holds back a snort: when he puts it in these words, it does make sense. Throughout her years in Aldera, Rey has had ample opportunity to ascertain that, as unshakable as the Organa-Solo marriage is, it is not a quiet one: Admiral Solo is prone to loud disagreements, while Lady Organa is unused to being contradicted; him, a carefree, self-made sailor who had spent his life going from one improvisation to the next, and her, the unbending heiress of one of the oldest titles in the country, who consistently plans her every move. And yet, both seem to enjoy the ways they complement each other rather than bemoan their differences.

And it is out of this very same patchwork fabric that Benjamin Solo is fashioned.

Ben, who has the undeniable Solo charm and the sharp Organa mind, with both of his parents’ talents and, yes, also their short temper, but hides it all under heavy layers of reclusiveness and intense quiet. Ben, who seems made solely of knife-like edges that are nothing more than soft, round corners looked at from the wrong angle. Who takes pleasure in teasing and contradicting her whenever he has the chance, who loves being right, but seems just as happy when Rey proves him wrong; who listens to her with a seriousness and an attention she has yet to find in anyone else.

He is all of this and more. And now, he is also Rose’s. Intelligent, wonderful, strong-minded Rose, who will be the one at the other end of his teasing, his attention, and the smiles that once were only for Rey.

She nods her agreement. “Yes, perhaps you are right, admiral.”

What else can she do, if not concede?

༻❈༺ 

Ben does not come home for luncheon.

Rey did not expect him to, but she had _hoped_ he would, against all odds. But of course, he would not cut short his morning with Rose; most likely, they had stopped somewhere, probably at De Lothal’s, for beverages, sandwiches and cake.

With the admiral having left after breakfast and Lady Organa not yet returned, Rey’s had the place to herself for hours. The admiral did offer to take her to wherever she wished to go, but she declined. Not for a want of options: she could visit Finn, to hear how overjoyed the rest of the Finnegan family had been at his and Captain Dameron’s announcement; she could pay a call to Jannah, or Paige, or Kaydel; she could go to the shops she’s been meaning to. But none of these engagements would make her forget what she now knows: that the one thing she truly wishes for — has always wished for without understanding it — is forever out of her reach.

And as much as she would like to pay herself the compliment that she had been the one to cleverly orchestrate such a complete destruction of her own desires, the truth is that it had never been attainable, with or without Rose.

Ben will marry Rose Tico, Rey will find a position as a governess with a good family, and that will be the end of it.

These are the considerations that plague her now, alone in the library, as the last hours of the morning drip slowly by. The fact that she has the best sofa in the room and her favorite book, _Celestina_ , in her hands, as well as complete peace and quiet to enjoy both, does little to banish the persistent memories of Ben and herself from her mind, or to make her content with what will happen once the season is over.

 _But I did choose it,_ she forcefully reminds herself. _I chose my own path. And I helped him choose his._

What little, debatable comfort she derives from those words is completely dismissed from her thoughts at the sound of a quiet “Rey?” as the door opens, and she looks up as Ben comes in with his usual gravitas. Upon seeing her, his countenance softens, as though the sight of her grants him a cautious sliver of contentment.

_Or you are seeing what you wish to see, Rey._

His boots and trousers are dusty, and his hair less smooth than usual, the final vestiges of a morning spent riding. _Which used to be_ our _activity._ She swats the unwelcome thought away.

“You’re back,” she says, sounding much less indifferent than she intended. “Your father told me you went riding.” _With Rose,_ her mind whispers unhelpfully.

Ben hums a confirmation, taking the chair closest to her sofa.

“I would have asked you to come, but you seemed so dispirited last night I thought I would let you sleep instead.” He then adds, with a gentle smile, “You were very much missed.”

Rey shakes her head, replying with what she hopes is a playful tone, “Was I really?”

His brow creases at that, and he looks confused for a second before saying, “Of course you were. The whole party wished you there, and it was only through my insistence that you should rest that they did not come in search of you.”

She blinks. There are words in that sentence she had not thought to associate with Ben and Rose’s outing. “What do you mean, ‘the whole party’?”

“Why, everyone! Miss Rose was most insistent, of course, as was Lady Kaydel. Dameron said it was a shame, as you’re one of the best riders he’s ever seen, and Finnegan was sorely disappointed not to see you, he was adamant that you should join us next time. And speaking of which,” he adds, turning suddenly grave, “I bring you some news.”

Rey, who was about to ask, _“Why did you have so many people chaperone you and Rose?”_ , closes her mouth again. Right. This is it. She straightens her back to ready herself.

“Good news, I hope.” She gives him a smile to mask the tremble of her voice, but if Ben’s watchful stare is any indication, she has not succeeded in masking anything.

He nods, serious. “I hope so too.” Leaning forward in his chair, he bridges much of the distance between the two of them and looks straight into her eyes. “Rey… Finnegan and Dameron are engaged to be married. It’s been officially announced, they told us so this morning.”

“Oh.” The relief coursing through Rey on hearing those words is such that, were she in any more possession of herself, she would be ashamed that the non-engagement of Ben should bring her any joy — but she is as in control of her feelings as of her intrusive thoughts, that is, not at all, and thus the news is welcome for more selfish reasons than only Finn’s happiness.

“I’m so glad to hear it! Did they look happy? What did they say?!”

Ben studies her face for a moment, like one who searches a world map for a country but doesn’t know in which continent it is; finally, he indulges her curiosity with a small shrug.

“They looked… jubilant, really. Dameron is more talkative than ever, so don’t ask me to repeat what he _said_ , as it’s too much for only one man to remember,” he says with an annoyed purse of his lips. Rey’s amusement at it is cut short when Ben takes her hands in his and gives them a light squeeze.

“Rey, I know how hard it is to bear it — trust me, I do — but… I assure you it’s temporary.” He gives her a smile, but it leans so much on the side of bitter that it hardly merits the name. “You’re still young and, and awfully clever and— and beautiful, and you…” Ben shakes his head, visibly struggling to find the right words and looking distressed.

Meanwhile, Rey watches in pure astonishment. As pleasant as it is to hear Ben call her ‘beautiful’, this is… a somewhat incoherent speech. Did Ben have a pint or two during his morning outing? Maybe they all celebrated Finn and Captain Dameron’s engagement, and the men had some ale. Yes, that seems… not too likely, as Ben has never been too fond of drinking in public houses, but not overall impossible.

“Ben,” she says carefully, “what are you talking about?”

His eyes widen.

A moment of complete silence passes, with Ben looking as astounded as Rey feels. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Opens it again.

“Are you not… upset at the news?” he asks, after their staring contest has gone on for long enough.

First she thinks she misheard him; but she knows she did not, and the genuine concern written on every line of his face completes what is, on the whole, an exceptionally puzzling picture.

“Upset… at the news of Finn’s engagement?” she asks in disbelief. When he nods his assent, she laughs. “No, not at all! Whyever would I be?! I’m delighted!”

“Oh. Um.” He clears his throat. “Well, then. I’m glad to hear it.”

Letting go of her hands after giving them an awkward pat, Ben stands up and starts perusing the nearest bookshelf; without another word, he picks a book here, opens another there, in an affectation of nonchalance — an art Ben has never quite mastered. This is now betrayed by the stiffness of his back and the red burning at the tip of his ears.

He is _embarrassed,_ and Rey has no idea why. What train of thought could he possibly have had to make him believe she would be upset to hear that— oh.

No.

No, that’s impossible. That would be nonsense! Ben is the smartest, least nonsensical person she has ever met, the whole idea is ridiculous!

…But the more she thinks about it, the more it fits.

Perhaps Lady Organa is right: Ben _is_ an open book. It’s just that most of the time, the pages seem to be written in ancient hieroglyphs Rey has no idea how to read — but now the writing has unscrambled and rearranged itself in clear, plain English, and she can read him so easily it is almost shocking.

“Benjamin Solo,” Rey says sternly, watching as Ben’s hand stops halfway through turning a page, and his shoulders hunch at the sound of his full name. “Did you think I had hopes of a proposal from Finn?”

The way Ben remains petrified would be endlessly amusing, if the source of it weren’t so baffling.

Finally, he moves again: closing the book in his hands, he takes another from the shelf and opens it on the first page; the pretense, however, doesn’t deceive Rey, as she can clearly see his eyes not moving along the lines.

“I only thought… Well. I’m glad to be wrong,” he mumbles.

Rey tries to maintain a serious countenance, she really does, but it can’t be helped: she bursts into laughter.

“Ben, _why_ would you convince yourself of such a thing? Finn and I! As if we couldn’t all see he only has eyes for Captain Dameron! The mere thought of it!”

He gives her a sideways glance and a reluctant smile. “Perhaps it was a bit silly. My excuse is your intimate friendship, and the fact that Finnegan is — was, until today — an extremely eligible bachelor. I thought it not unreasonable to assume you might have hopes.”

“I see,” Rey says, still amused by the idea — and in the mirth of the moment she adds, “But no, it is not Finn that I—”

She stops abruptly, but it’s too late: Ben has caught her meaning as clearly as it stands in her mind. Somber once more, he looks down at her.

“So there is someone,” he says quietly.

Were Rey the ward of a lesser woman, she would bury her face in her hands and utter what would come dangerously close to a shriek; thankfully, she grew up under the tutelage of the sturdiest, most tenacious woman in all of Great Britain, and she will be _cursed_ if she has not learned a single thing from the countess. It is in this spirit that Rey, though not quite daring to meet Ben’s eyes, and painfully conscious of her cheeks burning, keeps her head high and her posture as straight as an arrow as she replies, with as unfaltering a tone as she can muster:

“Possibly. But it is not worth mentioning, I’m afraid, so it’s best not to talk about it.”

 _There,_ she thinks. _This is as convincing as I can make it._

“Right,” Ben replies in a low voice. “Of course.”

The silence that falls after this exchange sits between them like a boulder, stopping them from reaching out to one another and heightening the discomfort, rather than bring an end to the subject, as silences are supposed to do.

She tries to go back to the book which she never really began to read, while Ben proceeds to impatiently tap on the pages of a book that he, too, is not reading.

Behind them, the enormous longcase clock ticks second after second.

_What if he realized it? What if he knows?_

The thought crosses her mind like lightning and leaves a thunder in her chest.

Ten more seconds loudly tick by.

_How can I ever look at him again? Or Rose?_

Ben’s book closes with a thump.

“Am I too late, then?”

Rey looks up. It’s not the words in themselves that surprise her, but the urgency with which they were said. She finds Ben looking at her without any traces of his polished impassibility; gone is the usual mask of civility, leaving behind nothing but a face more earnest than she has ever known.

Looking at her the same way she has desperately tried not to look at him.

Before she can produce even a word — not that she can think of any now, when she hardly knows herself — Ben tosses the book on a table and turns to her.

“Rey, I’m not foolish enough to believe I could ever deserve you,” he says softly, “but as I cannot conceive of any man in England who does, this may be less madness than it seems. So tell me,” he takes a deep breath, “is it too late for me?”

His words overpower her, she can scarcely believe a single one among them; whatever willpower is left in her after such a speech is just enough to make her understand his meaning, to make her challenge the hammering of her heart and encounter his eyes — vivid, entreating eyes that are for her, and her alone.

Encouraged, or maybe made reckless, by her silence, Ben continues, running a nervous hand through his hair:

“I know I have little to recommend me — I’m sullen and dull, and I talk sometimes too much, sometimes too little. But I… I have loved no other but you, Rey. Year after year I have dreaded the moment you would find someone worthy of you, and hated myself for not having the courage to— to openly lay my affections at your feet, which is where they have always belonged. So please, if it is indeed too late for me to do so, tell me at once; you will never again hear me on the subject, and I will be free of this pain.”

His last word has barely escaped his lips before Rey replies in a whisper, “It is not too late.”

The power of these simple words! The change of his features from agony to timid hope is so immediate, so becoming, and yet so fragile, that once again she cannot help herself: she gets up before she can balk from her own instincts.

“But…” Ben hesitates. “Your affections—”

“Are yours,” she whispers, delicately taking his face in her hands before she stands on the tip of her toes and pulls him into a kiss.

Nothing could have prepared her for this — not for the shock at her own audacity, or for her heart simultaneously climbing up her throat and sinking all the way down to her stomach; not for how warm and welcoming Ben’s lips are, how gentle, before he lets go of his last constraints and allows his enthusiasm to take the lead; for the firm grip of his hand on her back as the other goes up her neck, making her wish she could meld into all of these sensations, into _him,_ forever. She might even be allowed to, now.

The sound of steps out in the hallway makes Rey break from the kiss, and Ben reluctantly follows suit, but still keeping her in his arms. As they gaze at each other again, he seems as if in a daze, but this is quickly replaced by a smile. _Her_ smile. The one free and unrestrained, that goes so far as to produce dimples on his face; the one she never sees him give to anyone but herself, and now she knows why.

_“I have loved no other but you.”_

“Is this really true?” she blurts out.

He ducks his head and chuckles. “We do think alike; I was wondering the same.”

“What about Rose?”

“Rose?” he echoes, stupefied. His face goes on a journey, from bewilderment to curiosity, to dispirited suspicion.

“Did you perhaps… entertain any hopes about Miss Rose? Because Rey—”

She looks heavenward for a moment. _May God grant me strength._

“Ben, do not make me repeat myself. I have just shown you to whom my affections belong.”

Looking down at his own feet, Ben lets out another smile, as if he’s too abashed to look directly at her, but too pleased not to show it. “I’m afraid I will ask you to repeat yourself many times over, until I can finally believe it. But,” he frowns, looking up again, “what do you mean about Miss Rose?”

“Well, I—” Rey bites her lips. Now that she knows Ben’s heart, she also knows how inane her plans for him were from the beginning, and how absurd she will sound if she reveals them.

She settles for an incomplete truth. “I was… under the impression that… you might be on your way to… well, to propose,” she finishes in a small voice.

Ben’s eyes widen an unreasonable amount. “Propose… to Miss Rose? Miss Rose Tico?” He asks, incredulous. When she nods, he laughs — laughs! “Rey, honestly! Sometimes you are so focused on one idea that you refuse to look at things from another angle! I thought you would have seen the truth by now; did I not tell you it was as clear as the day itself?”

Rey glares at him; here he is again, with one more riddle for her to—

A riddle.

_“Lady Kaydel has bestowed her affections on someone.”_

Rose smiling at Kaydel, the one with whom she always dances not once, not twice, but thrice at least in every ball; Rose crossing the entire tearoom at the theater to talk to her; Rose standing up for an _impromptu_ duet.

_“And though I could never woo her, I love her till I die.”_

_“They cannot marry due to their difference in rank.”_

She gapes at Ben. “Rose is in love with Kaydel.”

He nods, slowly and repeatedly, his face the very portrait of amusement. “Which is the second good news of the morning that I meant to tell you. Lord Dulathia has relented on his demand that his daughter marry a title. The difference £30,000 makes, I suppose! There will soon be an official announcement, but Miss Rose wanted us to be the first ones to know.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for them! Rose and Kaydel…” She shakes her head. “I cannot believe I didn’t see it sooner, how naive of me!”

“I cannot believe it either,” Ben scoffs. “It was almost enough to make me doubt your understanding.”

“You, _my lord,_ cannot say much,” she says, giving him a light slap on his arm. “You thought I was in love with Finn!”

He winces at the words ‘my lord’. “ _Touché._ So… when exactly will I be able to make you stop calling me ‘my lord’?”

“Well…” she trails off. What comes next is uncharted territory for both of them, and either could utter the actual, official words. But maybe it’s more fitting that they work at it together, as they have done with everything else so far, so she lays the groundwork for him. “I must call you that so long as my name is Niima.”

“That is true. In that case, I’ll renew my offer,” Ben replies, gently taking one of her hands. “Would you allow me to provide for you? The offer includes not being obliged to take up a position as a governess, and changing your name from Niima to Solo, and in the future, to Organa.” He kisses her fingers. “You will live in Aldera, and put up with others calling you ‘my lady’,” closing his eyes, he kisses her knuckles, “and permit me to call you ‘my love’ instead of ‘Miss Niima’,” he murmurs, kissing her wrist; the feeling sends a shiver that travels from the base of her neck to the tip of her toes, and she silently exhales through her mouth before he looks at her again, with eyes that burn her to the core. “I fear the offer also comes with me in tow, if you can bear it.”

Returning the gesture, she kisses his hand, and has the satisfaction of seeing him hold his breath at the contact. She smiles.

“I wouldn’t say yes if you did not come with the rest of it.”

༻❈༺ 

_Aldera Castle, April 13, 1799_

_Dear Miss Kanata,_

_I am finally back home — and what a difference it is to be able to call it ‘home’, knowing I shall never have to quit it! I now understand the charms of going abroad; going to London for the season cannot bear a comparison to visiting Vienna, Rome, Zurich, and others. I’m afraid Ben has spoilt me with our honeymoon. And yet, for all the allure of the continent, the thought of being home is still the one that makes me the happiest._

_The only trouble I had during our trip, if I can be so bold as to admit it, was being called ‘Lady Solo’ wherever I went. It will take me a long time to accustom myself to a title; my only comfort is the last name that comes with it, for that is one dear to my heart, more than my previous one has ever been._

_We are to spend a few months here in the castle before going to our own home; Lady Organa has granted us the Commenor House, on the other side of the park, but insisted that it be renovated first. I myself thought it needed no such work; it is far bigger or finer a house than I ever thought of occupying (and so many rooms! I can barely stand the thought of the window tax!), and Ben tried to dissuade her from it — but that she would not have, stating that no daughter-in-law of hers would live in what was essentially an abandoned house, and that if Ben wouldn’t do his utmost to ensure my comfort, I would be better off living with her at the castle forever. Ben hasn’t said a single word about the renovations since then, and I am not ashamed to say I had a good laugh about it._

_What he has done, instead, is make his own personal amendment to the project: he devised an entire new garden on the east side of the house as a wedding gift to me. He took me there yesterday to see its progression and to choose the flowers and trees to be planted; Miss Kanata, I’m afraid I was of very little help, as I couldn’t stop myself from crying. My own garden! I cannot think of anything that will be more precious to me, with the exception of my own husband._

_As I write this, Captain and Commander Dameron-Finnegan have arrived, and they both ask me to send you their love, as do the countess, the admiral, and Ben. Captain Chewbacca is also expected for dinner tonight, and I will make sure to send him your love!_

_I hope everything goes well there in Takodana; do let me know how young Temiri Blagg fares in his studies, both Ben and I are most interested in his improvement._

_Yours affectionately, an exceedingly happy,_

_Rey Solo_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Few things make me as happy as typing "Rey Solo", not gonna lie XD
> 
> The duet Rose and Kaydel sang together (Rose and Kaydel, or, in the words of my betas, THE TWO RAGING LESBIANS, REY, WAKE UP) is "Silent Worship". It comes from the Italian opera "Tomoleo" by Handel, as Ben notes, but this adaptation into English only came into existence in 1928, so Rose and Kaydel could not have sung it unless they had a TARDIS XD But! This is what Emma and Frank Churchill sing in their duet in the '96 movie adaptation of "Emma", with Gwyneth Paltrow and Ewan MCGregor (in the most horrendous wig of his entire career, btw).
> 
> Rey and Ben's song, on the other hand, is "Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes," a popular old English song. Jane Fairfax and Mr. Knightley sing it together in the 2020 "Emma" movie adaptation (my god, can we TALK about 2020 Mr. Knightley? Damn). So you know. This really WAS heavily Emma-inspired!
> 
> Hope you've all enjoyed it! I had a blast coming up with the ridiculousness and the sweet and the pining. And now that I've written my Regency Reylo romcom, I'm ready for my Regency Reylo high drama, which I can't wait to ~~inflict on you~~ share with you guys! 👀
> 
> As always, thank you to my gorgeous, fantastic betas [Rae](https://twitter.com/regardingluv) and [Star](https://twitter.com/littlestarlost)! ❤
> 
> If you'd like to spread the word, here are the [retweetable](https://twitter.com/thehobbem/status/1353510233881128960) and [rebloggable](https://thehobbem.tumblr.com/post/640778674158927872/nonsense-nuptials-rated-t-regency-au-reylo) posts!
> 
> I also have a [musician AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204260/chapters/55549408) going (with violinist Rey and pianist Ben), in case you like modern settings and music, a [canon-divergent AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002497/chapters/57740473) in case you want robin hood reylo in space, and the merry knights of ren with actual personalities, and a [social media P&P/AITA AU on twitter](https://twitter.com/thehobbem/status/1228487438542286849)!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thehobbem.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thehobbem), where I rant about Star Wars, reylo, Adam Driver and, right now, THE BEN SOLO FUNKO POP 😭🙏💖


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